


We can try again, but why would we want to?

by Elysya



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, During Canon, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Missing Scene, Multi, Time Skips, dimileth wedding, yes i killed ashe i'm really sorry it was a mistAKE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28526448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysya/pseuds/Elysya
Summary: Garregh Mach has been taken by the Empire's army, forcing the other classes to fend for themselves. The Blue Lions, lost and recovering from the fight, reassemble the pieces after their teacher disappears and their house leader is sentenced to death.All of them have their struggles to face, still too young to carry such a heavy burden, they'll do their best to bring peace to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.A collection of brief scenes from the beginning of the War Phase and over to the epilogue, following the results I got during my first fe3h run.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Mercedes von Martritz, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 8





	We can try again, but why would we want to?

**Ingrid**

Enemy's forces surrounded her from all sides, the air smelled of blood and sweat and she was not able to understand if she was referring to the men under her or the result of her own exhaustion. It was hard to tell when her vision became blurry for the lack of air.

Garreg Mach being already situated high on a mountain meant that it wasn’t ideal to take flight from there, oxigen started to become scarce where she was and it wouldn’t take long before she’d need to lower herself to the ground and take a gulp of fresh air. 

The occasion presented itself under the disguise of concern for an old friend. 

Dimitri was waving his lance frantically at whoever dared to cross his path, she couldn’t see his face from up in the sky but, even as she made a frantic descend for the ground, she imagined the delirious look on his face as the monsters that haunted him took over once and for all.

She had been seeing the signs, madness slowly creeping between the cracks of his perfect façade. Her heart had broken with it, little pieces of herself flowing away in the wind where her friends let trauma and anger hunt them in all kinds of different ways.

Only, Dimitri was worse of all. She could work around Sylvain’s shameless skirtchasing, mending broken hearts left and right; she could try to chip away at Felix’s carefully constructed walls, the tiniest hint of his childhood’s carefree demeanor peeking from behind them as he passed month after month in the monastery. 

Dimitri’s foolish search for vengeance, though, was something too piercing to be shooed away by caring words and sympathetic smiles.

They were the only family she had left. Her father had long since destroyed the place Ingrid had made for him in her heart, every proposal of marriage felt like she was getting a step further from him.

Her Pegasus descended as violently as a winter storm, wings flapping with vigor and raising dirt and ash from the ground. A few opponents retreated, choosing to point different marks before they lost their head trying to mingle with her spier. 

She dismounted quickly, touching the ground with her booths too quickly. A shiver ran up her spine and to her teeth, making them tremble with adrenaline. 

“Your Highness,” she yelled, trying to get past Dimitri’s blinding rage. Nothing. “Your Highness, you have to stop!” 

Ingrid was stopped by a handful of red soldiers who attacked her as soon as she stepped down from her horse. In her fury of trying to stay alive to actually reach him. A swordsman with a pointy and long blade, stabbed in the chest after a brief match, an archer who got too close and tried to defend himself with a dagger, only to meet his hand when faced with Ingrid’s powerful lance.

“Dimitri! Listen to me,” she screamed again, at the top of her lungs. “It’s not safe for you here, we have to -”

A large unit came for her head, his axe coming down from his six feet of height with an incredible strength, pointing to the space between her shoulder and neck. 

She was quick enough to doge the hit, barely. A chunk of hair got stuck under the other’s weapon, letting her braid fall loose into a series of messily sliced, straight locks falling in her eyes and clouding her vision. 

In a split second, Ingrid was able to aim his lance at the space between his chest and stomach plate. Once she retrieved her weapon, it came out bloodied and dirty with body fluids. The man came down slowly, clutching at his stomach with both hands and Ingrid was shocked for a moment, watching as life drained away from his eyes that rolled back into his skull and the putrid smell of dead corpses filled her nostrils.

She had never hesitated over a victim’s body, always moving forward to the next battle, so the show in front of her gave her pause. Ingrid asked herself if she could still save her friends, when she herself was so far gone she could barely see the end of the tunnel.

When she looked up, Dimitri was gone.

**Annette**

From her place behind the front lines, Annette heard the unmistakable sound of screeching and crying, as if someone was trying to call for help.

Despite her best efforts, there was too much dust in the air gathered from the fighting and the horses stomping and the blasts of spells going on around her. Inside her ear, bells rang in a perpetual buzz, alerting her that she was still alive but devoiding her of any context and ability to perceive more than fuzzy sounds and distant shouts. 

When she touched her left lobe with one hand, she drew blood and winched. 

The Faith magic training hadn’t gone as well as the Professor had expected, she said it was because Annette didn’t believe in the Goddess the way she should have, which was rich coming from someone who had never heard of the church of Seiros before reaching the monastery.

Nonetheless, the statement proved to be true when she tried to infuse healing magic on her wound and failed spectacularly. 

Annette had barely time to think about the best course of action when the raging anger and clashing swords came to a halt. Everything stopped in the battlefield, just a fraction of a second, then a swirl of red troupes came marching forward, compact in their sturdy battle formation and Annette had barely time to hide behind a particularly strong tree at the edge of the forest before they came for her. 

As the enemy's forces stumped over corpses of her fellow friends and cherished soldiers, as the chanting of regular, deadly steps disappeared, so did any hope in young Annette’s heart.

The war was lost, or it had just started. Regardless, there was no bright future in store for her and her friends.

She couldn’t quite comprehend how long she stayed put behind the same tree, chest heavy with labored breaths, eyes trained on Edelgard’s troupes, their armors glistened under the sun.

Edelgard herself came in last, her black steed neighing when she forced him to slow down by pulling on the rails. There was something ethereal about her beauty, the way she carried herself, the confidence in the turn of her head; something that had Annette transfixed for the longest moment before she disappeared from view.

When the army disappeared and all that was left in front of her were beaten bodies and an empty field, Annette moved back out from her hiding spot, collapsing with exhaustion when she didn’t need the strength to stay hidden anymore. 

Kneeling over the remains of her beloved monastery’s recruits, she wept and wept for she did not know where her friends were, lost in the confusion of a losing battle.

Thinking back to Edelgard, she could swear her eyes had moved to hers for the briefest of seconds and Annette wondered what her reaction would be if she decided to turn around and kill her for daring to survive.

**Mercedes**

One step into the ground, echoing the ones left behind by hooves of horses that had disturbed the flowers and grass of the area surrounding the monastery. She stepped close to a bush of orchids that had seen better days, the one she and Annette always passed by on the way to the bakery. 

The flowers had whiltered, some had been burned by what was certainly a spell and others had been cut off. All in all, it looked like no one had tended to it in months but that wasn’t true and Mercedes knew it for a fact because they were the ones who sometimes stopped to water them.

She pressed a bruised hand on the stems and closed her eyes, thinking about the bright pink blossoms that she had seen bloom one morning.

In a matter of seconds, bright white light took over the bush and fresh flowers colored it anew. Mercedes stepped back to look at her handiwork and smiled, for among the ugliness of war she had managed to produce a little jem of beauty. 

When she turned around, the horror of the battlefield brought her back to reality with a force she never wanted to experience again. Steps echoed behind her, so slow and meticulous Mercedes thought that only a soldier of the Seiros church could produce them. 

The Professor had often condemned her for being too trusting, too unsure of her surroundings, but a small part of her wondered if the certainty of her admission came from a genuine belief that she would be saved or an even more urgent need to see her life end.

Separated from her family, never to be united with Emile again, forgotten by her comrades or simply lost to their search, there was no possibility for her to survive in the current climate without a shoulder to lean on.

Sure, her experience with magic had proven useful to heal others, but it was still too little for her to really protect herself with, which had been proven that exact same day when the Professor had to rescue her from a particularly powerful ball of flames that had almost hit her in the chest.

When whoever it was came close enough, Mercedes braced herself for the impact of a sword on her back but she only received a warm, calloused hand touching her shoulder. 

A man that she had often seen around the monastery looked at her with kind eyes and a sorrowful smile, he was old and his face betrayed the tiredness of a veteran, matched with the dirt and blood coating his red hair, he painted the picture of a soldier who had just returned from war.

Which, in a way, he was. 

“You are Annette’s friend, right?”

Mercedes glanced back at the familiar crest on his chestplate and nodded. 

“Can you help me find her, please?”

**Sylvain**

He hadn’t been able to reconnect with his classmates after the battle ended. 

They had sworn an oath before the last day in the monastery, to reunite in five years if they wouldn't see each other earlier and celebrate the way they would have after any battle. 

Sylvain wished he could get down from his horse and kick the ground to let off some steam, but he avoided giving into the urge for fear of being discovered by some of Edelgard’s troops. He didn’t know where they were and something told him she wouldn't let the terrain uncovered for long.

So he started to head north, hoping to get into Kingdom territory soon. 

Nothing clearer came to mind when he thought of a precise destination. If he imagined home, it was closer to his room in Garreg Mach than anything else, and that had vanished in front of him like a well constructed dream.

Everything about his life was uncertain from that moment on, as the war raged far like an echo behind him the only thing he could try was to look for a safe haven among the rubble. 

Sylvain sighed, the prospect of returning to his father’s castle chilled him to the bones despite the suffocating armor and he found himself suppressing a shiver. Dimitri had long since forgone his house, not to mention the lack of a proper sign of his survival from the moment the battle ended.

If he had to be honest with himself, there was little proof anyone from their class had survived. The mere idea of his friends’ bodies scattered on a pile like broken toys made him gulp back bile. He took a second to physically stop and remove the image from his eyes and his mind.

Night was creeping closer, he didn’t have enough stamina to try and create a flame to keep himself warm and he was sure the ache between his back was caused by something more worrying than a few hours on horseback. 

He needed to make camp, fast, but he didn’t have a tent or supplies to keep him safe.

Weariness turned into sheer horror when something stepped on a branch behind him and Sylvain prayed to the Goddess that no Beast would come forward to try and make him his dinner. 

Beyond all logic and reason, he lowered himself to the ground with a practiced move and tied his horse to a nearby tree, eyes painstakingly fixated on the direction the sound had come from.

Mastering the last of his strength, he raised his sword and moved forward, as silently as his armor could allow, until he came close enough to the source of the noise. Something wooshed behind him, fast as wind and just as mysterious and Sylvain didn’t know if he should have turned his back to where his opponent was supposed to be.

He wished the Professor were there to guide him, as he gulped down on air and put his luck to the test, turning around just in time to be met with the point of a familiar blade.

“Felix?”

**Felix**

Ingrid had spotted him half an hour after the battle had ended. 

Of course her Pegasus was faster than any man on foot, even though Felix was admittedly fast and lean in his movement, but he had not been sprinting in a jog and some idiot had decided to use his shin as a kicking box so it was hard to put his weight on the left side of his body.

Enche why he had agreed to ride on her very fast, but admittedly very dangerous, horse. That, and the fact that he didn't want any of them to leave his sight again, not ever. 

In the back of his mind a single image kept playing on repeat: him, standing on a hill close to the edge of the clearing where the battle had taken place, the Boar Prince, lit with psychotic drive, refusing to give up a fight even when three heavily armed soldiers from Edelgard’s army took him and lowered him to the ground, a fourth breaking his spear and disposing of his sword. 

He had taken his aim, pointing an arrow at the one holding Dimitri’s hands so the Prince could have a shot at freeing himself. 

The man had become mad and unreasonable, but he was still one of the few people who really knew Felix and battled at his side countless times so he was not going to stand by and watch as he was taken by enemies forces.

Just as he was about to send the arrow flying through the air, a swordsman knocked into his side and made him lose his stance, forcing Felix to shake his head to clear his vision and use the back of his bow as weapons while he tried to not be impaled on the other’s sword.

In a desperate attempt at self-preservation, Felix had thrown his bow to the ground and brandished his sword. Once he had taken the upper hand with some quick footwork, slicing through the man’s abdomen had proved to be easy work.

He regained control of his bow, grasped another arrow and tried to find his target again but there was nothing left of Dimitri but a broken lance and some manhandled grass where the soldiers had thrown him against the ground.

Felix was still cursing himself when Ingrid snapped two fingers in front of his eyes and he returned to the present with a blink. 

It was almost night, they were making camp, he needed to find some wood for the fire; information reached his brain in bullet points and it took him a few minutes before he was able to actually move.

One second he was holding on to sticks and dry wood, the other he was listening to a horse moving closer. He tried to run his way into hiding but his lame foot made him stumble and hit one of the sticks that had fallen from his hands, alerting the other person of his presence. 

Luckily, he was too tired to be alert and where the same information could have costed him his life in battle, that time it saved his friend’s. 

“I was about to kill you.”

“But you didn’t. I’m glad for that.”

“Ingrid’s with me.”

“Any sign of Dimitri? Or anyone else, for that matter?”

“No.”

“We have a lot of work to do.”

Ingrid welcomed Sylvain with open arms and a smack on the head for being too reckless and not taking care of his horse properly. The two started to bicker loudly and, where part of Felix wanted to scold them for captivating too much attention with their noise, a larger part of him sighed in both annoyance and relief at having his friends with him.

He didn’t know if he would have managed to bear the weight of the war alone, not a second time.

**Dedue**

He had risen from under a pile of bodies, disoriented and concussed. As soon as he had tried to get up and walk, he had fallen face-first into the ground. 

When he looked up, Garreg Mach was nothing but an empty wasteland of bodies and carnage.

Something in him wanted to scream His Majesty’s name, call for the Professor, anyone that would listen, but he was too tired to even figure out his exact surroundings. He fell, unconscious, just a few seconds later.

**Annette**

When she came to, Annette smelled the faint odor of ash and burning embers of wood. It was drastically different from the stink that filled her lungs while she was on the battlefield, walking the remains of what used to be her second home. 

Her nose scrunched up once, twice, until she sneezed so loudly that it forced her eyes open. Sitting up, Annette passed a mudded hand on her face and worried only later about the dirt that she had scattered on her cheeks and nose.

She already knew she needed a bath and a healer because her ear could be infected and when she touched it she felt - nothing, aside from the familiar twinkle of magic somewhere over her earlobe and all around where the wound had been.

Only then, her maroon eyes started to inspect the space to her left, where she found the comforting presence of Mercedes, her best friend lying against a tree trunk not far from her. 

When Annette allowed herself to look up at the sky, she found it to be pitch black, decorated by little dots that shone on the ground like fireflies;. The brisk air was made more bearable because her body had maintained some sort of heat from the campfire her saviours had put up, but she shivered anyway.

“Mercie?” she called, still too fuzzy from the exhaustion that had overtaken her to understand what was actually happening. “Mercie. Are you awake?” She crawled over the other girl, shaking the leg covered by a light dress that matched hers in style. 

Mercedes mumbled something under the breath, her eyebrows furrowed as she dreamt of something that made her uneasy and Annette recoiled, scared of having done something to upset her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, to no one in particular. 

To avoid further problems, Annette settled on one side of her friend and closed in on herself until she could hug her knees in the circle of two lithe arms, burying her face there. 

Mercedes had never been a light sleeper.

It was her best guess that sometime after her crying fit, she had fallen asleep - or most likely some spell she had been hit with caused her to fall asleep, delayed effect making her dizzy after the euphoria of battle had worn off. Evidently, Mercedes had found her and brought her away from the ruins of Garreg Mach.

Although, Mercedes had never been strong enough to fight with fists and arms during a battle, so Annette wondered who else had helped carry her. For a moment, her chest fluttered and she started to look for her old peers; maybe, she thought inside her heart, maybe Dimitri or Sylvain had helped.

Maybe that meant they were alive, after all. 

When she heard foliage flutter behind them, Annette did the stupid thing and got up to check, too caught up in her fantasy of being surrounded by allies. 

In few seconds, she came face to face with her father and the excitement died down as fast as it had arrived.

“Annette,” He breathed, relief clear in his features. “You’re awake.”

The girl gulped down on empty air, but it felt like a mouthful of sand. “Yes. What are you doing here?”

Gilbert eyed her from the tip of the shoes she wore to the top of her head, checking for injuries and frowning at the cut on her left cheek. “I was keeping guard, while you girls slept.”

“Thanks,” she replied, cold and stiff the way only Felix had taught her. “But we’re fine.” They both knew none of them would have survived with their magical skills alone, but her pride was not going to let her admit it.

“We will move at first light,” he added, seemingly reading her thoughts. “We don’t know if the Imperial army will come back, staying near Garreg Mach is not safe anymore.”

Annette knew that, despite not being fond of the idea, as much as she knew that she was going to stick to her father’s side because even after the years of abandonment something in her sought his approval and love. She hated that she still felt like a child in front of him, hated the way her mind reached for him and his affection.

“Yes. I suppose that’s the best course of action.”

Gilbert looked at her like a caged animal, she sighed and moved back to where Mercedes was sleeping. She’d get more information on the reason why she had fallen asleep so deeply after a few more hours of shut eye. 

**Sylvain**

“We can’t go to the Monastery, and we can’t walk into the Empire with nothing but two horses and us three as manpower. What’s your suggestion?” Ingrid asked, hands on her hips as he regarded the two of them like she was their nanny.

“As much as I loathe to say it, we should go back to our homes and ask for help,” Sylvain announced. As he was, laying lazily against a tree, it looked like the notion was not bothering him at all; his friends saw past the relaxed façade and eyed him with twin looks of suspicion.

“Are you sure your father will do something other than throw you in a locked room for safe keeping?” Felix asked, abrupt and cutting as always. “I don’t trust him.”

“So what, we head for Fraldarius territory?” Ingrid suggested, brows furrowed in concentration as she mentally stepped through a map of Fodland. “No one else has a strong enough army to be remotely useful during the war effort.”

“And Felix is technically the most important person in Faerghus after his dad, now, so it’s not like they can deny him,” Sylvain said and he noted how Felix flinched at the acknowledgement of his new status; he grimaced, too, once he realised that he had spoken like the man was not there. “Sorry,” he supplied.

Felix shrugged, but the notion stuck with him. Sylvain could see it from the set of his shoulders. 

“You don’t need to apologise, it’s true,” he supplied, standing up and dustings pretend dust from his trousers. “If we start moving immediately, we’ll reach the Fraldarius border in two days. I have some gold on me, it’s not much but it will buy us a night in a tavern.”

“And the silence of the innkeeper,” Ingrid agreed, nodding along. “I’m in.”

Sylvain moved his gaze from one of his companions to the other, assessing their certainty before he dove in with the plan he had been creating in his mind.

Going to Fraldarius did avoid the issue of asking his father for help, but it still put them dangerously close to the Gautier estate and news travelled fast between their two families. The Goddess only knew how complicated the situation could become if someone brought word that the heir was travelling like a thief in the night with his friends: a wayward Duke and the daughter of a fallen family. 

He shivered at the thought.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I can’t go to Fraldarius without visiting my father first.”

Felix blinked. “I thought we agreed the margrave wouldn’t help us.”

“Yes, but he will be far less hostile if I talked to him before we put on a strategy of our own.”

Ingrid sighed so deeply they could all feel the air leave from the very pit in her chest. “Sylvain’s right, he could prevent us from moving forward if he knows his son is with us. And he will know.”

Sylvain laid two palms up in surrender when he noticed Felix’s grim glance and the snarl of his mouth, ready to spill insults and yell his disdain. “I’m not surrendering myself to a life of selective chastity, Fe…”

“You mean monogamy,” Ingrid interrupted.

“Whatever you want to call it,” Sylvain gave her his best approximation of a stink eye. “I’m just saying we give him a heads up, as a team.” He put one hand on his friend’s shoulder, hoping to ease him enough to get at least a reluctant agreement.

Felix squared his shoulders and stared up at him for several seconds before he huffed, “Fine.” 

Sylvain breathed out in relief and patted Felix’s back in a silent, thankful motion.

“Alright, let’s go.” 

His lack of regard for his own safety helped push the problem to the back burner; if he had to suffer some bad blood from his family and some harsh words from his father, he would endure it. Not like he hadn’t been through all of it before. 

They started to mount on their horses, while Felix strapped his sword at his back and got ready to trudge behind them. 

Ingrid and Sylvain exchanged a glare from the top of their mares. 

“Felix,” she called slowly. “What are you doing?”

“Walking,” he stated. 

“There is enough space for two on both our horses, there is no reason for you to strain yourself.” She explained it like she was talking to a toddler and Felix certainly looked like one in his dirty battle suit and messed up ponytail.

“I don’t want to ride on your horse,” he said, almost offended. “It doesn’t like me.”

Sylvian’s mouth opened before his mind could connect to his brain, “You could ride with me.” 

He wanted to kick himself. Felix blushed.

“I’ll walk.”

They walked forward, heading to the general direction of Fraldarius with no other direction than their own instinct. With each step his mane took, Sylvain’s heart fell to the ground a little faster. 

**Dedue**

He woke up groggy and tired, even his eyes felt too heavy to be kept open, but he forced himself to sit up and wipe at his eyelids so that they could become a little lighter. Although, as he pushed on his elbows, his arms fell from under him and forced him back on the pillow.

A voice called him when he tired to get up from the bed he was lying in; comfortable mattress, surely softer than the one at the Academy. “Woah, there! Be careful, you were down for a while.”

Dedue opened his eyes, finally, to a smiling face with a few missing teeth. The young girl watched him carefully, her white braids long enough to rest on her shoulders and not much more. When he noticed her tan complexion and bright blue eyes, his heart skipped a beat.

“You - you are from Duscur.” 

“Sure, we all are. Didn’t you already meet my parents?” the girl moved her head to the side, thin eyebrows bending down to form confused creases in her forehead. 

As if she had called upon them, a young woman crossed the open door behind her and stopped short at the entrance to the room. “Oh, he’s awake! Quick, Fenny, call your dad.”

Dedue blinked, trying to place her voice and her stance to somewhere in his memory. He remembered that fierce brow and unwavering stare, from the time they had crossed swords on the battlefield.

“You were there, during the uprising.” He coughed, noticing how strained his voice was after what must have been days of disuse. “Where am I?”

She looked up at him from the bottom of her lashes, where she had crutched next to his bed to inspect him, two fingers on his pulsepoint and the other hand busy holding a watch to monitor his heartbeat. “Safe,” she complied.

“I need to go, there are people who need me.” When he blinked he saw Dimitri, fighting five people at once with his spier and a manic look in his eyes. “People only I can help.”

“Is it about the comrades who were with you, back then?”

Dedue nodded, still lost in a mist of his own creation. “How long have I slept?”

“Days, almost a full week.” She put the clock away and got up. “You’ll need rest, and food. We’ll give you an armor and supplies for your journey.”

“You really trust me that easily?” he asked, finally managing to sit with his back against the wall. 

“You and your friends showed mercy for us,” she recalled. “You didn’t have to, but you did, and I don’t like owing people if I can help it.”

Dedue felt an encompassing warmth take root inside his heart. He knew there was nothing he could have done to convince her there was no debt owed, that he would have saved them time and time again if he’d needed to. He was too tired to argue and too weak to refuse the help, tough, so he didn’t complain.

The woman introduced herself as Mhia, her husband was a blacksmith who had been working on an armor for Dedue ever since they had found him at the base of Garreg Mach.

(“Why were you going to the Monastery?”

“Pillaging.”

Dedue gave her a look that would have melted a lesser woman. 

“We heard it was destroyed, it would have been a pity to let all those goods go to waste.”)

He went through a week of therapy to regain full movement of his legs and two days of intense training with the heaviest sword the family could offer him to go over his teacher’s latest lessons.

Each day he wasn’t spending looking for Dimitri was a day too much. 

Finally, on the tenth day of his stay with the family who had taken him in, a boy ran to their door and informed them that rumors had been spreading of a decapitation, scheduled for the following week, in the center of Faerghus’ capital.

Dedue left that same night, exchanging a warrior’s salute with the people who helped him and carrying Fenny’s scarf around his neck. 

**Mercedes**

Things between Annette and her father were rough, to say the least.

Mercedes passed the time worrying the cloth of her dress between her fingers as the two walked in front of her and into a small city they had been able to find, looking for a clothing store.

“We’ll need to change, these uniforms are too recognizable,” she had noticed the previous day as they discussed the closeness to inhabited cities and how convenient it would be to stop at one of them. 

“My clothes are completely destroyed,” Annette had noticed, twirling so that Mercedes could see the bottom of her Sorceress gown burnt at the end and the hole in the back of her right sleeve. 

“They don’t provide much coverage from cold, either,” Mercedes had observed, scooting closer to the fire.

And just like that, it had been decided. 

They had put together Gilbert’s founds and the money Annette had saved from her last job in the monastery cleaning the garden, putting together a good sum that could last for some rations and clothes. 

Gilbert had given them a part of the money and he had left, saying he had business to attend to and setting a time and place to meet so they could all finish their business in relative calm. 

Mercedes didn’t understand if the man had done it because he believed they could take care of themselves, or because he didn’t care enough for his daughter's safety to stick around in a clothing store for a few minutes.

She didn’t dare ask her friend for a opinion, not when she looked at her father’s retreating back with such longing.

Annette had intercepted a boutique almost immediately. As it was a fairly small city, the prices weren’t high and the girls could look around without anyone knowing the uniforms came from a place that had been recently destroyed. 

It seemed news didn’t travel fast east of the monastery, Mercedes was glad for that.

After a good hour spent looking around for something that could be equally practical and pretty, the girls had settled on a few gowns for both the coldest and warmer months.

They had both looked at the pennies that were left in their hands and immediately decided they’d need to spend it on a few cookies when they caught the smell of freshly baked pastries.

(“Once we get out of this, I want to open a bakery,” Annette had said around a mouthful of cake. “To make people happy, and to always have biscuits at hand.”

Mercedes laughed. “That sounds like a really lovely idea, Annie. I hope I can be there to see it come true.”

“Yeah,” Annette agreed. “I hope that, too.”)

Bellies full and bags in hand, the girls had walked around for a while before they reached the meeting spot and found Gilbert already there, looking like he had seen a ghost right in front of him.

Mercedes waved a hand on his face and he blinked, startled. 

“Sorry, I was thinking.” he cleared his throat. “I hope you ladies found what you were looking for.”

Both girls raised their hands, showing sacks that were obviously filled with clean, functional clothes. 

“I can mend these ones, I will certainly need some place quiet for that,” Mercedes declared. They were the uniforms the school had issued for them after they’d passed their exams, it would have been a shame to lose the last piece of the Academy they had been able to take away. 

“About that, I may have a suggestion.”

Annette blinked, but looked at him with no malice. Mercedes hoped the time spent together had helped her get rid of the annoying feeling of dread that had been etched on her face ever since they had started that journey with Gilbert.

“We could stay here.”

“What?” Annette yelled so loudly a lady on the other side of the street turned to her, crossed, and Merced had to wave her apologies.

“Just for a few months, so we know what the Empire intends to do and so that we can save some money for the war effort.”

“We don’t need to save money,” Annette announced, “We need to find our friends, they can help us. I’m sure Felix or Sylvain will give us all the support they can.”

“We don’t know where they are, Annie,” Mercedes observed.

“Whose side are you on?!” Annette shrieked, letting the bag fall to the ground as she focused on her rage. “We have to find them, we can’t say still. There is a war to fight!”

Mercedes understood her friend’s disagreement, she had been as stubborn as her when she was eighteen, but the few years that separated them helped her see the situation in a different prospective; she knew they’d be better off settling in for a time and trying to contact them while they had food and a warm bed, instead of roaming the forests forever. 

At the time, though, Annette was too busy going against her father to understand.

“I have found someone who will give me a job as a constructor, the pay is enough for us three,” Gilbert tried to reason. “We can use the last of our money for a advance, to stay in one of the small houses at the end of town.”

“No,” Annette refused. “I’m not giving up so you can bury your faults by playing house with us. It’s too late, Father.” Having said that, she stormed off to a unknown direction.

Mercedes let her walk away, grabbing the bag she had let fall during her tantrum.

Gilbert sighed, rubbing at his eyes in slow circles with his fingers.

“For what it’s worth,” the girl said. “I know that’s not all you were trying to do.”

Gilbert let out a huff that sounded like dry amusement. “Talk to her for me, please?”

**Felix**

They had been standing outside the Cabinet for what felt like hours, Felix let his foot beat a restless tempo against the stoned floor. He ruffled his hair with both hands, pulling at his ponytail to make it tighter to the point it physically hurt his scalp. 

Ingrid was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth when she ordered him to stop, sitting on a bench next to Felix to feign nonchalance. 

“You’re not faring any better, so,” he said, like it would buy him any points. 

Gautier estate was built with solid, resistant materials and the walls were sturdy to trap the heath during winter, which meant neither of them could hear what was happening on the other side of the room.

He assumed it had a lot to do with belittling his childhood friend and long-life confidant, with mentions of wedding and lineage and all the stuff Sylvain despised.

“What’s taking them so long?”

“You know how Margrave Gautier gets when it comes to Sylvain,” ingrid tried to reason. “He’s his only son.”

“Yeah, and who’s fault is  _ that _ ?” 

Ingrid quickly realized she had hit a sore spot and shut her mouth, choosing to pick at her nails since her lip had most likely started to bleed. 

Sylvain opened the door to his father’s office a few moments later, making both his friends jump out of their skin. He walked with purpose until he was standing a good twenty feet away from the room so he could put his hands in front of his face.

“It didn’t go well, I take it?” Ingrid asked, standing up.

Sylvain turned around with his signature phony smile and Felix felt a wave of nausea in his chest. “It was great. Normal amount of bullying from my only remaining family member aside, we are good to go and rally the troops.”

She knew better than to push when they were standing so close to the man in person, so Ingrid walked to Sylvain and took his elbow in her hand, guiding them away and toward the front gates where they had left the horses to be fed and cleaned.

Felix walked behind them, unable to offer any kind of emotional support and beating himself for it. 

He was not the most outgoing person, something in him had been broken after Glenn and Dimitri had been taken away from him - the latter way before the battle at Garreg Mach - and he had no idea how to fix it.

Seeing Sylvain so distraught, it made him want to try. 

During their stay at the inn, a fairly awkward fit that had forced them to share a large but uncomfortable bed, Felix had wanted to reach out and offer some kind of solace; he could see how hard Sylvain was taking the destruction of the Monastery, the loss of their only stability.

It was affecting him as well, he was simply too stubborn to admit it. 

When they reached the entrance, Ingrid left to retrieve their stallions and Felix took the opportunity to gingerly lay a hand on Sylvain’s crossed arms.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, in the same way he remembered doing when they were children. He hoped his body hadn’t forgotten the motions, the timber to use in order to make Sylvain smile again after a hard dispute with his parents. 

Felix didn’t intend to feel a single tear on his knuckles, specially not if it was followed by a heavy sigh and the arm under his hand disappearing so that Sylvain could wipe at his eyes with the back of his gloves. But that was what he got, nevertheless.

“It’s fine. Wouldn’t expect him to change just because of a life-threatening war, would we?” 

Felix wanted to say something, argue that it was not normal and he was tired of watching Sylvain pretend that it was, but Ingrid arrived with both horses behind her and the discussion ended before it even began.

**Annette**

The tenth rock she threw had fallen a little bit further than the second one and to the fourth one’s right, she noted with a nod.

Apparently, there was a small river next to the house they had rented. Annette liked to go there and wait until she felt strong enough to return inside and face her father.

Merced had convinced her his plan was the best course of action with a lot of logical reasoning and a conspicuous amount of promises, among which was to write to Fraldarius and Gautier respectively to inform them of where they were staying and how long the’d be there.

The house only had two bedrooms and a small kitchen, so Mercedes and Annette had taken to sharing a room. Something that hadn’t been a problem until they’d started a habit of talking their way into the morning, wondering about their friends and planning a way to contact them that would be efficient enough.

Sending ravens like Ashes’ stories didn’t seem like a good idea, not when they didn’t even know how to train one.

Annette launched another stone into the river, it made its way to the other side of the stream and spooked a sparrow that was trying to drink. She put her hands on her lap to avoid hitting anything else. 

“There you are,” Mercedes’s soft voice reached her from behind. She had cut her hair the day before, so short it barely reached her chin; Mercedes said it was easier to work inside a kitchen if she didn’t have to tie her long locks so much. 

Money from the job down at the bakery wasn’t necessary, but it eased some of the pressure off their shoulders to know at least one of the girls could put something aside on her own.

Annette waved to her friend until she sat next to her, bumping their shoulders in greeting.

“Are you okay?”

“House’s too small when he’s there.”

It had been only a couple of days, yet Gilbert’s presence was growing to be suffocating, like his big frame robbed Annette of all the air that could have been in the room instead of him. 

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it. Have you given any thoughts about coming to work with me?” The proposal had been made the previous day during dinner, but Annette had declared she’d need more time to think. 

“Thanks for being so nice about this, but I want to focus on my magic. There are a few books in the library I’d like to study before we join the others. I have to be prepared for the battlefield.” 

Mercedes huffed. “Are you sure there is even going to be a battlefield? We haven’t heard anything back yet.”

“Of course I’m sure! You didn’t see her, the way she looked down from her horse…” Annette had to stop for a breath, the image of Edelgard strolling victorious in her red dress made something inside her chest tighten. “It felt like she wanted to burn everything down with her eyes.”

She closed herself in the confinement of her body, trapping head and arms behind her knees. “It’s only been a couple of days, they’ll reach us soon.”

**Ingrid**

“We’ll never reach them in this weather, there is too much snow up here.” Ingrid slammed a figurine on the table, it had the shape of a pegasus and was meant to represent her in the midst of all the other troops. “I can fly to the clouds, but I can’t last long up there, the air’s too thin.”

Sylvain sighed for the tenth time in as many minutes.

They had been staying in Fraldarius for a few days, the castle was empty and cold without Rodrigue or any of their parents moving around and causing a ruckus with their chatter. Felix had sent most of the staff away on his first day back, too, and neither of them had been strong enough to argue.

He had been on edge since he had set foot inside his childhood home, too weary to rest and too tired to reveal his anger to anyone.

Rodrigue was away to help at the borders, handling political issues that rested on his shoulders ever since Dimitri had disappeared and the capital had been taken. Still, he could have walked through the main gate any second and the notion made Felix want to run and hide as far away as he possibly could.

It would have been a matter of weeks until the Empire tried to capture the northest parts of the Kingdom.

“We need a solid strategy to face Edelgard’s mages. She’s strong with dark magic and we lost both our sorceresses,” Sylvain noted. 

“If only you’d taken up Reason lessons with a little bit more consistency, we wouldn't have this problem,” Ingrid grumbled, and immediately regretted. “Sorry.”

Sylvain bumped his head against the wooden table and left it there. “This is getting us nowhere.”

“Sylvain couldn’t have taken up all the Empire’s dark forces alone anyway,” Felix chimed in from his place at the other end of the table. He was sitting with one foot on the chair in front of him, both arms crossed on his chest and eyes closed. “We’ll both work on our Reason, then we can teach some spells to our most proficient soldiers.”

“You want to teach  _ magic _ ? To other people? Like, interacting with them?” Sylvain teased, jumping upright. 

Felix opened one eye. “I’m open to suggestions, unless they’re dumb.”

Ingrid wanted to smack them both until they’d have enough sensibility to talk about their issues like normal human beings, instead of communicating via weird war-talk and keep on being constipated idiots.

She sat down with force, making the chair screech across the tile floor so that both boys would be compelled to look her way. “Fine, since we can’t know where the Empire's army is now, we can focus on reinforcing our troops’ knowledge.” 

“Next order of business,” Felix ordered.

“Any news from missing members?” Ingrid asked, reading from the points she had written down on her log.

A chilling silence fell over the room. 

They hadn’t heard from any of their lost comrades, none of them knew about their last known locations.

Last they’d heard of Dimitri, he had been sentenced to death at the hand of Cornelia and thrown in a endless pit, amidst other nameless bodies. They didn’t have the time to mourn him accordingly, but they had collectively decided to spend at least a few hours in relative silence to pay their respects.

As for the Professor, witnesses had seen her fall from a cliff, her body was already limp when she hit the water. 

“We are alone,” Felix declared. “No one is coming for us. We either do this ourselves, or perish in this wasteland.”

Ingrid and Sylvain looked at each other across the table, letting the realization sink in.

**Dimitri**

The cell was cold, dark and damp. He felt sick when he tried to breathe a little deeper, something that was heavily influenced by the smell of urine and acid that penetrated the stone walls. 

He had stopped counting the days after the second time he’d woken up from his restless hours of sleep and found nothing but darkness and bone-chilling cold awaiting for him.

Dimitri believed anything would be better than his father’s gaze, staring at him with disappointment from the other side of the cell bars, stoic and unmoving in his rebirth; even the blood and screams that poured out when he closed his eyes were a kind of solace.

Briefs glimpses of lucidity convinced him that he was seeing things, he realized his father was dead and so was his mother and there was nothing that could bring them back, not even regret. 

They didn’t last long, he always returned to the deep conviction that they were waiting for him to avenge them and the blood in his ears roared once again.

_ Kill every last one of them _ , they said,  _ leave no trace of her behind _ .

“Your Highness,” a voices said, it sounded too reverent to belong to one of his ghosts. “I’ve come to take you away.”

_ six years later _

**Ingrid**

“Sorry!” she yelled, elbowing a guard as she ran like a mad woman on a mission. “Coming through.” She spun around a maiden carrying a platter of sweets, something she would have avoided ruining at the cost of her own life.. 

Those needed to be preserved for the bouffet after the ceremony, when she’d be able to stuff them all in her mouth without a care. 

Everyone was almost ready, or so Ingrid had been made to think. Annette had walked in her room the previous night, holding a shiny version of her paladin armour that had been polished so much she could see her own reflection in the chest plates.

It was humbling to have the symbol of knighthood bestowed upon her by the King himself, even more so when she knew she was going to be part of the Archbishop’s protection army. 

If she managed to bring the veil to her before the beginning of the wedding, that was. Otherwise, Felix had implied he would have her hanged for treason. As much as she knew he was making fun of her, she didn’t want to test his resolve when it came to their teacher.

Ingrid ran a little faster at the last corner, busting through the doors to the Archbishop’s chamber in one full swoop. 

“It’s here. I got it, it’s fine!” she yelled, laying the delicate fabric on the queen-sized bed at the center of the room, as the girls who had been intent on fixing Byleth’s hair turned to her with matching expression of amusement. 

“Your hair looks a little bothered,” Mercedes commented, ever so polite, as Annette nodded next to her. 

“It looks like you had a match with a wild beast before walking here,” Annette supplied, much less careful of her feelings. 

“Thanks, girls. Appreciate it,” Ingrid was too fatigued to come up with a smart retort, not when the armor was weighting so heavy on her shoulders. She immediately understood why it was called a ceremonial get-up. “How are we supposed to fight in these things?”

“You aren’t,” Byleth noted. No one understood if she was serious, but everyone assumed she was.

“Don’t move, please,” Mercedes asked with too much force for it to be a suggestion. Byleth obeyed dutifully. 

“How is Dimitri?” the Archbishop asked, trying to gauge Ingrid’s reaction from her reflection in the mirror in front of her while Mercedes was at work with her hair; she was apparently doing some intricate work with braids and curls that Ingrid didn’t particularly understand.

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Annette dismissed the notion with a hand. “He’s a big boy.”

Ingrid shivered thinking of her childhood friend, the large Boar King that could slaughter mountains and eradicate armies, trying to handle his feelings on his wedding day.

“He has Felix and Sylvain with him, doesn’t he? Dedue should be there as well.” Other people Ingrid definitely didn’t trust when it came to emotional intelligence.

“Great,” she said. “That’ll do it.”

**Dedue**

Dimitri was fretting. He was positively fidgety, bordering on nervous, even. 

The man had destroyed several dozens of enemies, commanded many more and addressed a whole kingdom after a gruesome battle, but apparently the idea of walking down the isle and declaring his love for the person he already referred to as his “beloved” was making him shiver with anxiety. 

Dedue stood still as Dimitri walked a hole in the chamber floor, tying and untying the knot of his cravat with trembling hands. 

“Getting cold feet, Your Highness?” Dedue asked. He had heard the phrase from Sylvain a few weeks back, something about second-guessing oneself, it seemed fitting. 

“No!” Dimitri yelled, a tad too loudly for it to be considered normal. “Not at all, I love her with everything I have, but…”

“But,” Dedue encouraged him, even though his monotone was probably not as encouraging as he’d have liked to think.

“But what if I am not good enough for her? What if she understands what horrible monster I am and decides to leave me, one day?” He had started to unravel a series of mindless worries, so incoherent that Dedue worried his king was starting to spiral into a dark pit and he had no idea how to fix it.

He put both hands on the King’s shoulders, forcing him to look into his eyes so that they could deliver the determination his words would lack. “Your Highness, there is nothing I can say that will convince you of your worth now, but I promise you that the Archbishop will find a way to reinforce your belief in yourself soon.”

Dimitri blinked, his one good eye welling-up with tears. “How do you know that?”

Dedue stepped back, resuming his pose with both arms behind his back and a knowing smirk on his face. “Because when the two of you are together, there is nothing you can’t conquered. You’ve proven that times and times again already.”

Understanding dawned on Dimitri’s features, making them soften in a way that wouldn’t have been possible a few months back. Dedue was incredibly grateful for that day, if it meant bringing calm to his King’s face for the first time since they had met.

Suddenly, it was like he had never had any doubt at all.

The moment disappeared when Mercedes knocked on the door, which was already ajar, and stepped inside with a single flower in hand.

“Hello, boys, I’m not interrupting I hope.” She produced something shiny and blue from one of the pockets in her skirt. “This is for Dimitri’s lapel, I thought it’d be nice if you two matched.” She presented the blue rosebud, holding it in both palms with the utmost care. 

Dimitri hesitated, too worried that he might crush it if he tried to touch it. “Would you be so kind,” he asked. He stepped forward so that Mercedes could get better access to his jacket.

She pinned the bud on his clothes swiftly, using both palms to make sure there were no creases in the white fabric. “There, perfect.”

“Thank you,” he whispered and bowed his head.

“Are you sure you want to keep your hair like that?” she said. Dimitri ran a hand through his long hair, too long once he actually noticed it. Dedue knew a King needed to have a proper presence, but he had never really paid attention to the way Dimitri had developed during the years.

It probably had a lot to do with the fact that Dimitri had never made wise choices in hairstyle. 

“I was before, but now… you’ve put quite the doubt in my mind.” 

Mercedes smiled, in that way of hers that made both eyes crinkle at the corner. “Sit down, let me help you with it.”

Dedue eyed the hallway from the corner of his eyes and closed the heavy door behind him, so that no one could see the King before his arrival at the church.

**Annette**

Bells chimed from the church, people started to move in order to see their saviours in the happiest day of their lives, carriages belonging to all the nobles who had supported the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus moved to the front of the chapel to chat and get reacquainted while they waited for the groom to arrive.

It didn’t happen everyday, that the Archbishop and the King got married after fighting in a war that had taken years and sacrifices in order to establish peace to the land. In fact, it had never happened at all and everyone wanted a front row seat for the event of the millenia.

A gust of wind ruffled Annette’s hair, she had to cover herself with both hands as she turned her eyes up to see a wyvern, gliding through the sky.

Claude got down from the mystical beast a few feet away and started to boast around with the rest of the noblemen, saying it was thanks to him that the then-professor and a blushing Dimitri had gotten closer at the Academy. 

Hylda lapped him, putting a hand to his boisterous display.

Annette giggled and waved, Hylda smiled and moved her arm to greet her. There were too many people between them, she’d have her time to say hello after the ceremony.

Pushing through the crowd, Annette made her way to the front of the building and huffed in the shadow of Gilbert’s large armored shoulders.

“Hello, Father.” She heaved out a breath. “A bit crowded today, isn’t it?” 

Gilbert nodded, a simple smile on his face as he gestured for her to go inside. 

They had mended their relationship during the past years, as much as it was possible. He was stuck on security duty for the day, but Annette would make it a point of stuffing his face with cake later in the evening.

She was glad to have accepted those few weeks in the little cottage with him before they had started to move around the village and fight bandits again. Mercedes had a point when she talked about the beauty of reconnection. 

Winning the war had put everyone in a excellent mood; thanks to all the good things that had happened in rapid succession, Annette felt like she was floating on air. 

Skipping up the stairs was hard with the intricate gown she was wearing, but she managed to reach the top with a minimal amount of effort. Mercedes was already seated close to the altar, bouquet in hand as she gestured for her to come closer.

Annette liked the way they had decorated the chapel, she was sure that Flayn had a lot to do with it considering the amount of pale green flowers that accompanied the standard blue ones Dimitri had chosen. 

It felt like walking in a spring meadow, even if they were bordering on winter and Faerghus weather wasn’t forgiving with its cold days. 

“These flowers are beautiful,” she commented.

“Magic can do a lot of good for winter weddings,” Mercedes explained, making her fingers wiggle in front of her as little sparks floated in the air close to Annette’s nose.

On the other side of the isle, Felix and Sylvain were standing incredibly still as they waited for Dedue to enter with Dimitri in tow. Annette noticed that Felix was looking her way and she sticked her tongue out at him playfully, which he answered with a subtle blush and a roll of his eyes. 

She wished she could have gone over and convinced him to relax, but Seteth was already emerging from the back of the church and ordering the crowd to reach their positions. 

“He’s coming,” Annette supplied, jumping on her feet as she tried to spy behind the sea of people trying to find a free spot.

It took a few minutes for everyone to settle down and for the music to start, but Annette thought it was worth every second.

Dimitri was radiant in his white and blue uniform, far more elegant than the one they had made him during the war and surely more fitting around the shoulders. Mercedes had forced him to sit down and have his hair done, which basically consisted in a half-ponytail that moved wayward bangs away from his eye.

He looked good, he looked happy. Annette smiled. 

**Dimitri**

Hushes from the crown overwhelmed him, the sound of the orchestra and the light seeping through the colored windows made him flinch all the way to the altar. He hoped nobody would notice, at least not immediately. 

Sylvain winked at him when he was halfway to the altar. Even when he wasn’t speaking, his friend found a way to be inappropriate; Dimitri had to force back a snort. 

He focused on Dedue’s back, guiding him as he had done years before, away from the darkness and into salvation. One day, he would have to learn how to properly thank the man for all the things he’d done for him, Dimitri imagined it was still quite far into the future.

For the moment, he couldn’t even fathom how he could possibly speak the vows he had spent months writing in front of half his subjects. 

Speeches made for political reasons, and instances where he needed to reveal his heart’s content were far different, he had found. 

He had been told that the bride needed to arrive late, it was costum for it to happen and even though Byleth had been ready for far more time than him, Gilbert had been instructed to stop her entrance for at least five minutes regardless of when she’d arrive.

Dimitri started to fidget with his sleeves as Ingrid made her way through the isle, letting flower petals fall behind her as she did. 

The armor designed for his special guard fit her like a glove and Dimitri found himself smiling despite himself when he thought of how hard she had fought to achieve her goal. She reached her friends to his left and bowed at him. 

To Byleth’s side, Annette and Mercedes were waiting for Flayn to reach them; she was supposed to bring the rings, mismatched and ever so meaningful. 

The flower on his lapel felt like it was burning a hole in his chest, right where his heart was supposed to be.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Byleth appeared from the halo of light surrounding the entrance like a vision in white and Dimitri’s hands hitched to move her veil away from her face in order to reveal the smile that hid behind it. 

She arrived at his side, offered him her hand, and as he interlaced his fingers with her, Dedue’s words slotted into his brain and settled into his heart. 

He was ashamed to say he had tuned out Seteth’s words almost immediately, deciding instead to focus on the way Byleth was looking at him as if she was trying to ease his nerves with the sole aid of her large green eyes. 

Behind them, Annette elbowed Flayn and whispered something in her ears that made the girls chuckle. 

Once he slid his ring into her finger, a large weight that had been resting on his shoulders was lifted and Dimitri breathed a sigh of relief. 

When she gave him her mother’s ring, made larger by her own magic and fitting perfectly around his own finger, Dimitri decided he couldn’t wait for Seteth to give permission and surged forward to kiss his wife under the roaring applauses of his newly liberated kingdom.

**Felix**

Dances were never his thing, he found them to be weird and annoying. He imagined it had a lot to do with his reluctance to be touched by someone else and the admirable two left feet this instructor sported when he was younger.

Nevertheless, he endured the endless reception for his teacher’s benefit and, he had to admit, for Dimitri’s sake. 

The man had changed severely since he had first seen him at the Academy, his kindness and calm demeanor were sincere where they had been cover ups and Felix could actually see happiness in the way his lips curved upwards as he spun his bride around the dance floor. 

“Are you going to dance with anyone?” Sylvain appeared to his left, as stable and unmoving as the moment they had been together next to Dimitri in church. 

“No,” he replied, simply. Felix blinked slowly, refusing to acknowledge Sylvain’s presence further. 

The other man hummed. “Pity, I wanted to show Dimitri how good I am now. The Professor would be proud of me.”

“I’m sure you can find some poor soul to force into the dancefloor with you,” Felix supplied, following the newlyweds with his eyes.

“Nah, the only person I wanted to dance with just told me he doesn’t plan on enjoying the festivities, so I’m good.” 

Felix felt his heart drop at the bottom of his feet. 

Sylvain had been noticeably more irritating since the last time he had been sent to the hospital, there had been something about their interaction then - the renewal of a promise, the fragility he had expressed - that had taken their relationship a step further away from platonic, but neither of them had admitted to any incriminating feelings just yet. 

He breathed deeply through his nose. 

“There is no point in indulging with dancing and frivolous activities, if nothing else will come out of it.” He crossed both arms on his chest to stop himself from reaching out and dragging Sylvain away with him to somewhere where he could either beat him to a pulp or kiss him senseless.

The jury was still out on that one.

“Well, I for one I believe that a lot could come out of it,” Sylvain insisted. “Like a long and fruitful alliance between two houses that, for the record, have always been in a good relationship.”

Felix snorted. “It would be a shame to ruin such a flawless record, uh?”

“Yes, it would.” He could feel the grin on Sylvain’s face without having to look at him. 

“You can’t simply give up your duties, neither can I.” Their long game of chess had reached a impasse, Felix turned around to see Sylvain’s hopeful, boyish smile. It was far more devastatingly honest than he’d pictured and Felix felt his resolve crumble.

“So we’ll have to jump around from one estate to the other. We’ve never liked monotony very much, anyway. It’ll be fun.”

“We?”

“Too forward?”

Felix blinked. “Your father, he…” 

“I don’t care about my father, Fe.” Sylvain took his right hand with both of his, frustration getting the best of him. “You guys always say I need to work for the things I really want, right? I… I’m willing to put in the work for us, if you want.”

Moments of sincere seriousness were rare with them, they most often ended in arguments or tears, so Felix didn’t exactly know how to handle the latest developments. All that he knew, was that his hand was on fire and he wanted the fluttery feeling in his stomach to stop. 

“Goddess, you’re infuriating,” he snarled, almost to himself. 

Sylvain was about to say something in response, judging by his face it was going to be obnoxious, so Felix did the sensible thing and stopped him from talking by getting up on the tip of his toes and kissing him in the middle of a crowded room.

**Mercedes**

“Finally,” Annette commented, falling to the nearest chair with a satisfied huff.

Mercedes laughed, hiding her mouth behind the palm of her hands. 

All around them, couples were dancing and forming. It looked like peace was bringing out a lot of chances for resolution.

The festivities were about to end, most people had left or retired for their chambers, sleeping peacefully before they’d say goodbye to the royal couple the next morning and start their journey back home. She had been living with Annette and her father before the war took hold of Fodland, and after that the Monastery had been home to all of them.

It was difficult to imagine something else in her life, something that would be lasting and consistent. 

She had been talking with the Archbishop about a project of hers, something she had mulled over during the last months, when she had helped with preparations for the wedding. There had been a lot of talk about children and descendance, especially when the girls were alone and gossiping about Dimitri.

They had all wondered about him as a father, one particular day over cake-testing, one that had been particularly important for her (both thanks to the company and the sweets) and had made her reflect on a lot of things.

Mainly, the image of Dimitri, large and imposing, hovering over a small, wiggling child, which was hilarious on its own; but also about the amount of kids that were left alone on the streets, without a family that would imagine their features and help them learn how to walk.

She had seen a fair amount of them during the war, and she had tried to help as best she could, but there was not a lot she could have done with her limited resources. They’d have needed a good day to feed themselves as it was. 

Famine was behind them, thankfully, and Mercedes had been appointed a monthly credit to go by, despite her insistence that the money wasn’t needed and she could care for herself.

Annette perceived her worry and waved a hand in front of her eyes. “You okay, Mercie?”

“Yes. It was a long day, that’s all.”

“Mh, if you say so.” Annette understood her friend was going through something far more deep than she could articulate in words, and decided to move her attention to the newlyweds who had moved aside to pay their respects to other representatives.

Byleth was a beacon, it was easy to find them in the crowd. 

“What are you going to do now, Annie?” Mercedes asked, out of the blue.

“Oh,” Annette turned around, her curls jumping away from her face with the fast movement. “The Professor asked me to teach at the school of magic.”

“I thought you wanted to open a bakery,” she recalled.

Annette danced on her seat, moving her head back and forth with the music. “Yes, but I also want to be helpful, you know?” She furrowed her brows. “When we were about to take the Capital, Felix told me something that made me think a lot about all the studies I did.”

Mercedes opened her mouth without saying anything, waiting for the other girl to finish her thought even as her eyes were obviously lost to sometime in the past. 

“He said that once the war was over, he’d have no reason to use his sword, and it’d be like all his years of training were for nothing, you know? This way, I get to use my magic for something good.”

“That sounds like a really lovely idea,” she acknowledged. “It’s a shame we will be far from each other, then.”

“Why? Do you already know where you want to go?”

Mercedes smiled. “I asked the Professor to open an orphanage, we will discuss the details after the wedding.” She already had a few ideas in mind for the place and the organization: it was going to look and feel like a home, the way she had been able to find in the Church. 

Annette clapped her hands in excitement. “That’s great!” she laid a hand on Mercedes’ one on her lap. “And we can still write each other, right? A letter every day.”

“Yes,” Mercedes nodded. “I am going to miss you, Annie.”

“Me, too.” 

They let the realization sit with them for a while, until it became almost a visible presence in the room behind them. Not necessarily a burden, but something they would have to live with and work around. 

It would have been hard, after all the time they had passed together in the last years, but it was necessary in order to pursue their personal goals. They’d always been fairly different despite their strong friendship. 

Nevertheless, they both felt like their paths were going to cross again.

**Sylvain**

As much as he was feeling like he was walking on air, only partially thanks to the wine he had chugged to get some liquid courage, Sylvain knew that he needed to show some kind of decency. 

They had retired to the gardens for a while after Felix had agreed to one waltz and Ingrid had smacked him over the head twice for public indecency: once for himself and the other for Felix.

Sylvain still had to understand why he’d had to suffer both punishments, but he’d gladly endure it twice over if it meant he would get Felix to caress the nape of his neck in a silent apology.

He ignored the letter sitting in his chamber, where his father had written about a series of maidens waiting for him to come back and choose one of them, as if marriage could be decided with the same levity with which he picked how to dress in the morning.

Luckily, all the most annoying and elder noblemen and women had already retired for the night and the class had been able to reunite in a table to celebrate their friends’ union in a much more intimate fashion.

Sylvain welcomed the distraction, everything else could be handled in the morning.

Ingrid was slightly tipsy, bordering on drunk, as she laid her head on Mercedes’ shoulder, a giggling Annette sitting next to them. Dedue and Dimitri had started to entertain Felix with a game of cards, something Sylvian had never known him to play as well as he was.

He stored the information in the back of his mind for future use.

Byleth had been sitting next to her husband, watching his cards from the top of his shoulder, when she caught his eyes. She raised from her place, kissed Dimitri on the cheek, which made him blush a deep red, and took a seat at Sylvain’s right.

“You look happy,” she noted. 

“You, too,” he replied. 

“If you need any help, the castle will be open for you. All of you.”

“It’s fine, Your Royal Highness,” he said, teasing her. “We can handle it.”

Byleth hummed. “I have no doubt, you have all grown into fine men and women since I first saw you. I’m very proud of you.”

Sylvain chuckled nervously; it was the first time someone he looked up to said something so nice to him, it felt weirdly comforting.

“Thank you.”

As they looked around the table, listening to their friends’ laughter and frustrated grunts - when they couldn’t manage to win a hand at cards - made them feel safe, like they were sinking in a push bed or swimming in a relaxing stream. 

From that moment on, they would all go their separate ways and create something with their lives, which were barely starting, after all. It was hard to remind themselves of their young age sometime, seeing as their positions forced them to balance a great deal of responsibilities. 

That night, at least, they could be a group of young soldiers, retired and happy as they relished in each other’s company.

“Let’s meet again in five years,” Sylvain suggested.

Byleth nodded. “Right here.”

“No troubling coma and disappearances, this time.”

She chuckled. “No, no disappearances. We’re all together now.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Then they all started to meet regularly and tease Dimitri because he became too soft for his own good, the end. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this far, it's been cathartic and very very fun to play this game, it left me emotionally scarred!! yey!!
> 
> I started to write this right after I finished AM, the first run I did, which left me devastated and full of feelings. I had to put them somewhere so have this beast, the longest one shot I have ever written in recent years. You're welcome.  
> I will never stop apologising for Ashe, he left us too soon because I'm a stupid player who doesn't read the rules: he died in classic mode before I could even face Miklan, rip young angel, gone but never forgotten. I make it my mission to include him in every run since, just so you know. 
> 
> Come talk to me on twitter if you want @hatterbreaks, feedback is always appreciated ;_;


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